Tuesday, 20 March 2007

Smokers, Please Read

You know what, I can't bloody wait until they ban smoking in public places in the UK (1st July...Bring it on). Tonight I was in the bar sitting with some people from my course and one of the blokes lights up. Continuously. For two hours. Now I didn't stink of musty, stale, rat piss until he sat next to me and his smoke started manifesting itself into my eyes, nose and mouth, mindlessly blowing it into an area where no one else was smoking.

Don't get me wrong, 'considerate' smokers, if you can call a smoker that...or is it an oxymoron... you decide...do exist. Many of my friends who smoke do so away from those who don't as a courtesy, they wait until everyones finished eating if we're out for a meal etc. But then they're my friends, and I have no problem telling them my feelings.
What PISSES me off is the inconsiderate arses who light up these insignificant little sticks of shit with no thought to the fact that tonight, sunshine, I've worn perfume to make myself smell nice. I've washed my hair. In fact, I've washed full stop. Within an hour of being in a pub - no, scratch that -after 10 minutes, I smell almost as bad as the rancid, acrid, old man sitting next to me who, funnily enough, I have no desire to smell like. Who the hell would? Evidently half the population.

I know you probably don't care and you probably already know, but smoking really does make you smell. It's the most obvious thing in the world when a smoker sits next to you because the odour hangs off them like a bad fart that's followed them into the room. Except that, unlike a fart, you can't open a window or just wait for it to disperse...old smoke lingers on people like alcoholics round a free bar. Things that are stale don't freshen themselves do they? No, they get worse. And just like that boy in your class who stank of B.O - everyone knows it apart from them.

So even though YOU don't know it, and YOU probably don't care that you stink...I care about the fact that I stink. My pillow, hair, clothes and skin stinks of your smoke when I wake up the morning after a night out.
And I have to breathe your disgusting smoke, the contents of your lungs and mouth. Thanks, it's nice of you. I'll be sure to return the favour next time I feel sick in a public place but can't be bothered to throw up in the toilet.
Oh, but that's different, isn't it?

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